


Wild Touch

by QuillsAndInk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Angst, Animal Shifter Dean Winchester, Blood, Fluff, Gentleness, Gore, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, John Winchester’s A+ parenting, M/M, Mutual Pining, Perfect Pair Bang 2020, Plants, Psychic Bond, Smut, The non con IS NOT between Cas and Dean, Trust Issues, Witch Castiel (Supernatural), Witch's Familiar Dean Winchester, cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:27:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24281290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillsAndInk/pseuds/QuillsAndInk
Summary: When lonely plant witch Castiel finds an injured deer in the woods, he expects to merely give an animal a helping hand. What he doesn’t expect is Dean, wild, broken and stubbornly proud. Dean is done being anything but a man who can shift his skin, but the part of him that yearns to be a familiar aches in the strange and gentle ways of Castiel’s home. But when Dean’s tumultuous past comes lurking, Castiel and Dean must learn to trust one another and maybe, they can find love somewhere in the mix.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Past Alistair/Dean Winchester - Relationship, implied Gabriel/Sam Winchester - Relationship
Comments: 57
Kudos: 365
Collections: Perfect Pair Bang 2020 (Official), The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE labor love. Massive thanks to my artist (and friend) Threshie for adorning my baby with her beautiful art and beta’ing for me the whole way through. This would not exist without you. (Here’s her masterpost https://threshasketch.tumblr.com/post/618510509329743872/presenting-my-third-and-final-art-master-post-for where all her art can be seen)

Castiel sighed and got out of his truck. Familiar or no, he still had work to do. He walked up the driveway to his little cottage and unlocked the front door. He stepped inside, shut the front door, and quickly changed out of his trenchcoat, slacks, and tie and exchanged them for a worn t-shirt and ratty jeans, leaving his feet bare to feel the dirt beneath his toes. Castiel walked through his house and out into his garden. He surveyed his plants and the Hoh Rainforest beyond his fence. He breathed gently. No matter his day, this here always gave him peace. He had always been glad that he was a plant witch. Today, with his garden starting to bud and bloom and having had an awful first meeting with a familiar, he was comforted even more.

He stepped out into his garden. The mulch would need to be redone this year. His currant bushes by the steps strained toward his hands. With a spark of magic, he ran his fingers over their leaves, gratified to feel them take his strength for growth. An early spring bumblebee drifted past his nose to land in his Crane’s Bills. Castiel couldn’t help but smile at its fat body as it dove clumsily for the pollen in the flowers. Castiel held a hand out, palm up, and with a gentle summons, the bee floated up once again and alighted weightlessly on his palm. It crawled around for a moment, inspecting his skin for pollen, before flying away to seek more interesting fare.

Castiel sighed. The plants sighed with him. Ants marched on the ground, and another bumblebee joined the first in his forget-me-nots. He could feel each of their little sparks of life. A fern curled a frond toward him. He plucked a few leaves for a potion later. Ferns were excellent in creating resiliency. Once again, Castiel felt a pang. He did all his spellwork and potion making alone. If he had a familiar, their bond would make this all so much clearer. The spells would come easier, and as much as he loved the creatures in his garden, plants and insects didn’t make much company. Castiel needed a harder distraction from his failings. He lingered in his garden for a moment more, then picked through his flagstone path and out the back gate into the Hoh.

Being a witch was an excellent gift, but it didn’t earn much money. Even in Magic, Washington, it wasn’t like the general populace knew about witches. The town’s name had always made Castiel chuckle. How people found ways to like the concept of magic while allowing the real thing to frighten them into violence never ceased to amaze him. In any case, Castiel couldn’t exactly share that he was a witch with anyone in town, so groundskeeping for the Hoh made an obvious—and necessary—job choice.

Castiel walked into the forest in a well-trodden deer trail. Though he did his best to keep visitors off it, they trampled through it all the time, leaving garbage and damaged plants in their wake. Castiel picked up an empty chip bag and sighed. Non-magic folk really didn’t know how to mind the earth. With a little magic, he urged the trampled mosses to lift their tiny leaves once again. He pressed magic into the nearby trees to help them heal over the wounds people had carved into their bark. The spirit of the forest thrummed through him. The early evening sun streamed through the canopy. Castiel smiled softly.

Suddenly there came a croaky noise from the forest. Castiel froze and turned toward it. The noise came again, weak, guttural and not dissimilar to a goat’s bleat. Castiel was strictly a plant witch, and that gave him some leeway with insects, but there wasn’t much he could do for a mammal or a bird. Still, he couldn’t bear the sound of any animal in pain. He had to go see where it was coming from. He delved deeper into the woods, trailing his fingers along the bark of the trees, gathering their strength and attempting to glean what might have come by them. As he got closer to the noise, he noticed dark drops of red on the moss near his feet. Whatever was making the noise, it was injured. Castiel pushed through a cluster of bushes into a clearing and there it was.

Rather, there _he_ was. A stag, all long lines, smooth brown-grey fur, and magnificent white antlers. The fletching of an arrow sprouted from his shoulder and blood darkened a large patch around the shaft. It dripped steadily from behind his foreleg. Castiel couldn’t see where the arrow had buried itself, but the angle toward his chest cavity was alarming. The stag trembled visibly and swayed unsteadily. Seemingly unable to bear the pain, he let out another croaky groan.

“Hello,” Castiel said softly. The stag whipped his head toward Castiel. His long ears pricked in alarm, and he looked ready to bolt. Castiel extended his hands, palms up. The stag’s nose worked. He tensed right up and stayed stock still. That was good. Castiel could work with that. But he still needed the stag immobilized if he wanted to get him to a vet to get the arrow taken out. Castiel needed to think up a plan quickly, though his brain hiccuped when he worriedly observed the expanding pool of blood beneath the stag.

Focus. He needed to focus if he had any chance of saving the stag’s life. Castiel closed his eyes and channeled his intention into his magic. He gave his energy to the earth and with all his strength pulled. With a whispered spell, Castiel raised his arms, and with them thick, bark-fortified vines rose from the earth. They wrapped around the stag, mindful as Castiel was of the arrow. The stag thrashed violently at the first contact of the briar vines. It seemed he was still alive enough to fight. That was good. That meant he had a chance. But he wasn’t doing himself any favors. Castiel worried that his violent movements would push the arrow deeper. Castiel felt a wave of disgust for the bow hunter who had done this.

The briar tightened around the stag’s legs, ribs, and pelvis to stop his movements. Castiel stepped closer to inspect. The bark had nicked the stag all over, and the wound around the arrow had indeed widened. The stag’s sides were heaving like a bellows with his labored breaths. His fur looked like satin stretched over his bones. Castiel felt drawn to smooth his fingers over the stag’s sides and feel the sleek fur, but recalled that wasting disease had been prevalent lately. Then again, the stag’s eyes were liquid and he was wall-eyed with fear. Castiel’s heart broke. The stag didn’t understand what was happening, he only thought he was going to be killed or worse. Deer-borne illnesses be damned. Castiel laid a soothing hand on the stag’s uninjured flank.

The result was electric.

Discomfort, fear, _pain_. Emotions surged in a roiling, sucking vortex in Castiel’s gut. They were so cluttered and confused, he felt like his body would tear apart. Wrongness flooded through his brain, and Castiel recoiled from the deer. The ruckus of feelings became more muted, but they remained simmering under his skin. Castiel felt a bolt of anxiety spear through him, but that was different from the fear that was humming through his body. Bewildered, he whipped his body from the stag. The deer brayed in alarm at his sudden movement. Castiel pulled his mind from his haze of emotion just in time to prevent the briars from tightening painfully around the stag’s body.

Emotions that he barely recognized still swirled and wracked through Castiel. His chest heaved like he’d just run a marathon. The stag’s sides worked with powerful breaths. Castiel gazed into the dark abyss of the stag’s eyes. The stag, almost defiantly, gazed back. And then it happened. It was so quick, the average person would have missed it entirely, but Castiel was a witch and he’d known since the day he could cast a spell that the devil was always in the details. And there was no missing how the stag’s eyes flashed from a natural black to a mossy green and back again. Shock slacked Castiel’s jaw. The stag was no stag at all. He was a shifter.

Castiel was filled with questions. Who injured the stag? Did they know what he was? How had he made it this far? Was the hunter nearby? And who was this stag? Confusion that Castiel didn’t recognize rose up in him, and finally Castiel understood. He picked through himself, a careful witch’s introspection that he had learned from his mother, until he found it. Thin as a gossamer thread and strong as Kevlar, he found a bond between him and the deer. But _how_?

Generally, there was a spell to be cast that bonded a witch to a shifter and made the shifter into a familiar, and Castiel knew the spell would vary depending on what magic the witch practiced. Castiel, being a plant witch, knew the spell would involve the burning of sage to clarify the air, and the grinding of lily pollen for devotion, and a vow, and both the energies of himself and his familiar to create a bond. Bonds took effort and intent and a good connection between the familiar and the witch. Dimly, Castiel thought he had once read something that mentioned an instantaneous bond, but Castiel had scoffed and shrugged it off as pure fiction.

The deer that was looking steadily at Castiel was telling a different story. But slowly, the stag’s head began to loll back. His eyes kept trying to roll; it was clear that he was trying to fight unconsciousness. Castiel snapped out of his reverie. Whatever he had thought previously, the bond was there, and he could feel it weakening. The deer’s emotions seemed to be leeching further and further away. Blood dripped from around the arrow that still stood with gruesome pride from the stag’s body. Castiel needed to act if he was to save the deer’s life. Quickly.

Castiel turned and strode out of the forest. It took a lot of energy to entreat briar to both bear the weight of a fully grown stag and followed Castiel placidly out of the forest with all its greedy ferns and fungi, especially when they strained for Castiel’s attention as he walked. They slid wetly over his bare feet as he passed, begging for help, a little more sunlight, a little less water, _please please please_. The Hoh was accustomed to a benevolent plant witch who always stopped to help. But today, with non-native briar trailing after him with a deer, he could scarcely lend them a little hello. Castiel would have to meditate here and grant them energy when he next had time. Right now he needed to get back to his truck.

The walk out of the forest took much more time than Castiel had hoped for. Then the briar had a difficult time following him to the rough and hard-packed dirt outside his garden, but Castiel gave them more of his power and they were able to heft the stag around the house and into the bed of his truck. The stag groaned as his body was laid on its side. Castiel’s heart broke that he was in pain, but if he was making sounds, Castiel hoped he had a chance. Castiel dismissed the briar and hurried to his front lawn and pulled a handful of the grass. He spat on the thin leaves in his hand and sprinkled them around the rim of his truck bed. With a little energy and a word of power, the grass grew into an arch over the bed of the truck, perfect to keep the deer on his side. 

“It’ll be okay,” Castiel told the deer, with no idea if it was true. He felt the stag’s life and emotions fizzle and spark. He was afraid, but fading. “I’m getting you help,” Castiel assured him. 

There was no time to waste. Castiel found his keys in his pocket and got in the cab, started the truck and began to drive. 

The drive to Sweets and Treats Animal Hospital was really only a ten minute drive, but it felt like hours to Castiel. He could feel the stag’s life and pain niggling in the back of his mind, but that didn’t mean he knew what to do or how the stag was faring. Castiel hoped he was lucid enough to know he was getting help. There was a complex human mind in that stag’s head and Castiel was aghast that right now he couldn’t even ask the stag’s consent to get him medical treatment. But, Castiel told himself, he was doing the right thing. He and this familiar had bonded and ergo, it was Castiel’s job to look after his well-being when he was in animal form. 

Castiel reached Sweets and Treats and parked carefully in the rugged lot, not wanting to jostle the stag. With a pang, Castiel realized for the first time that he didn’t know the stag’s name. That could wait. Castiel leapt from the cab, and went to check on the stag. He was unmoved. 

“I’m getting the doctor. I’ll be right back. Don’t move,” Castiel told him. The stag flicked his ears at Castiel’s voice, but he otherwise remained still. Castiel let the arch of grass fall away. He doubted the people of Magic would take kindly to an actual witch in their presence, liberal town or not. Besides, the stag was in no condition to move. 

Satisfied, Castiel rushed into the clinic. It was blessedly quiet. Just Gabriel’s surly old shop cat, Toffee, who offered Castiel a growly meow. Castiel went to the front desk and peered down at the young receptionist. She was new. Castiel scowled. Jo at least knew who he was. 

“Can I help you?” She asked, staring firmly back up at Castiel. 

“It’s an emergency. I need to speak with Doctor Milton immediately,” Castiel said. 

“You can schedule an appointment,” she said coolly. 

“It’s an _emergency_ ,” Castiel ground out. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” said a new voice. Gabriel stepped out of the back.

“Doctor Milton, this man said he has an emergency.

  
“He doesn’t have an appointment,” the receptionist said. Gabriel sighed. 

“It’s fine, Hannah. Cassie here is an old friend.” 

“Cas-tee-el,” Castiel corrected on instinct. 

“Anyway, _Cassie_ ,” Gabriel continued, “this had better not be an exhausted bee again.” 

Castiel scowled. “It was a life worth saving.” 

“It was a _bee_. Don’t you have google?” Gabriel said with an eyeroll. Castiel did have google, not that it worked well with his magic being present. Technology wasn’t Castiel’s strong suit. 

“There’s a stag in my truck,” Castiel said. “He’s dying. He’s been shot with an arrow.” 

Gabriel rubbed his face with his hands. “For the love of God, Cas! How did you manage to coax an injured stag into your truck? Haven’t you heard of the wasting disease outbreak?” 

Castiel squinted stubbornly. Gabriel gave a hysterical little laugh. 

“Fine. Show me the stag.” 

“Thank you, Gabriel,” Castiel said. He led Gabriel out to his truck where the stag lay unmoved. His breaths came shallow and quick and his eyes were closed. Castiel searched himself for their bond. It was faint and fading. Panic that was entirely his own seized his heart. Gabriel huffed a harsh, short breath between his teeth. 

“This isn’t good, Cas.” 

“Can you fix him?” 

“I don’t know. I can’t see where the head of the arrow is. Maybe,” Gabriel said. His voice was tight. 

“That’s...concerning,” Castiel said. 

“He’ll never be able to return to the wild,” Gabriel said. “Wound like that? I think it would be kinder to put him to sleep, Cassie.” 

“ _No_ ,” Castiel growled. If it was an ordinary stag, Castiel might have agreed with him, heavy as the thought was. But there was a man inside that stag and Castiel wouldn’t let him die. “I’ll call rehab facilities. Save the stag. Please.” 

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “You’re pretty invested in him. I don’t tell you how stupid it is to feed wildlife, do I?” 

Castiel glared balefully at Gabriel. “He deserves a chance.” Gabriel raised his hands in surrender. 

“Fine, Snow White, you win. Help me get him to the operating room.” Castiel tilted his head.

“I don’t understand that reference.” 

“Jesus Christ, you’re deprived,” Gabriel complained. Castiel shrugged and went to help Gabriel pull the stag out of the truck without jostling the arrow around. Without the use of magical briar vines, it was a difficult task. The deer was well over a hundred pounds and he seemed to have been shaped to be difficult to carry. But between Castiel and Gabriel, who was much stronger than he looked, they were able to bring the deer to the operating table in only a few minutes. Castiel allowed himself to be sternly shooed into the waiting room by Gabriel and took a seat and worried. 

He could still feel the bond between him and the stag but that was all. No emotions, nothing. Castiel didn’t know what happened to a bond when a witch or a familiar died, but Castiel was sure he felt life spark through. He hoped it would stay that way. To distract himself, and for Gabriel’s sake, Castiel made calls to local wildlife rehabilitation centers. Several were willing to take in an injured stag. With a whispered spell at the end of his phone calls, borrowed from his friend Rowena, he made each of them forget speaking to him entirely. Now that he thought of it, Castiel would have to invite Rowena for tea. He needed help exploring what happened between himself and the stag. 

Castiel mused about how the stag and their bond would fit into his life for another hour before Gabriel emerged from the back room. Castiel immediately got to his feet. 

“How is he?” he demanded. Gabriel gave him a tired look. 

“He’ll live,” he said, “but he’s in a bad way, Cas. That arrow did a number on him.” 

“I’ll take him home and put him in my garage until the rescue picks him up tomorrow,” Castiel said firmly. Gabriel looked like he wanted to argue, but shook his head. 

“Fine,” he said in a careworn way, “let’s get him in your truck.” 

Carrying the stag back out to the truck was a much easier thing on Castiel’s soul than bringing him into the clinic. He was heavily bandaged around his foreleg and heavily drugged asleep, but the bond was there and his breaths came slow and easy. Castiel felt relief build under his skin. They laid him in the truck and the deer didn’t even flinch. 

“I gave him a reversal. He’ll be up in a few hours. And Castiel, for the love of all that is holy do not keep that stag in your house,” Gabriel said sternly. 

“I won’t,” Castiel said. Gabriel looked suspicious but he let Castiel return home without more grief. Castiel felt bad for such a thought. If the stag wasn’t a familiar, Gabriel would be doing the right thing. It wasn’t his fault that he was brushing up against a world he couldn’t fathom. 

The ride home was quick and less stressful, but when Castiel got out to rise briar take the stag inside, he found a man instead. And _what_ a man. The long lines of a deer had morphed into pale human skin and hard muscles, sprinkled with freckles and almond hair. He was naked. Castiel averted his eyes bashfully. The poor man couldn’t even consent. The deer’s bandages had slid off and the stitches now tugged awkwardly at the new form. Castiel hoped anything internal hadn’t reopened. He summoned the briars quickly and at his bidding, they cradled the man. Once Castiel opened his door for them, they deposited him on Castiel’s sofa. 

The man moaned softly. Alarmed, Castiel bustled into the kitchen and whipped up a quick healing salve with fallen sequoia needles and fresh bark. He carefully dabbed it over the man’s wound. With a word of power and some energy, the weak healing settled into the wound. Castiel was no good at healing, especially not on a mammal, but it could help. He draped an old blanket over the man to give him modesty and gently felt for the bond. It thrummed alive. Castiel smiled. The situation was odd, but at least that felt promising. He went into the kitchen to make some dinner. The man would be hungry when he awoke.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel was halfway through making his mother’s chicken and wild rice soup when he heard a moan from the living room. The man was awake. Castiel probed gently at the bond and found consciousness and a whole mess of emotions that he could barely untangle. It was impossible not to feel overwhelmed, but he gave the soup a firm stir before wiping his hands on his flower covered apron and heading into the living room. 

The man was partially sitting up against the arm of the sofa, and his eyes were wild. The blanket Castiel had draped about his waist for decency was being gripped in two large, white-knuckled fists.

“Who  _ the fuck _ are you?” the man spat in a voice that was rough from disuse. “Where the hell have you taken me, you son of a bitch?” Clearly, the man was terrified. Castiel felt his heart break a little for him and he tried to swallow down his pain. He stepped back and raised two placating hands. He could feel that anger and confusion and terror leaching through from the bond. It swirled muddily within Castiel. 

“I’m Castiel,” Castiel said lamely. “I found you in the woods. You’re safe now.” He mentally shook himself. That was easily the worst thing he’d ever said to comfort someone in his life. The man’s lips peeled back over his teeth in a menacing grimace. 

“You found me in the woods and  _ bonded _ with me?” the man demanded fiercely. He shifted restlessly like a wild thing, even as he clutched his injured shoulder close to his body. Castiel swallowed at his tone. This man was still a shifter and he felt trapped. Anything with instincts like that would not hesitate to protect themselves. 

“ no I didn’t mean to,” Castiel replied helplessly. “It just  _ happened _ .”

“What do you mean, happened?” the man asked warily.

“You were calling out, so I was trying to help you, and the moment I laid a hand on your side to help, we bonded,” Castiel said.

“That’s not possible,” the man said flatly. 

“And yet.” Castiel spread his hands. He felt the man’s confusion spike. He wondered if the shifter was feeling him too, or if he was focused on only himself. 

“Well, how do we break this?” the man asked. “I am  _ not  _ a familiar.” There was something left unsaid. Castiel could feel the way the man's emotions twisted. 

“I don’t know.” Castiel said honestly. Some small, cruel part of him didn’t want to break the bond. He’d been looking for a familiar for so long...but that didn’t matter. The man couldn’t have consented to bond, and Castiel for all his faults was no monster.

“So what do we do?” the man demanded. His eyes were narrowed into angry jade chips and his mouth was curled into a ferocious scowl, and he was wild and beautiful in a way that made Castiel’s gut do something funny and he could only hope the man didn’t feel it too. The man’s scowl deepened 

“I’m just a plant witch,” Castiel said apologetically. “I may know someone who can help, though.”

The man rubbed a hand over his face. “Better than nothing, I guess. I’m Dean.”

_ Dean _ . Castiel couldn’t help but believe he’d earned something by learning the man’s name. Castiel hesitated by the sofa. He was unsure of what to do. There was a naked man named Dean and they were bonded. There was no book he had ever read that had prepared him for this. 

“Perhaps I can get you something to wear? And some dinner?” Castiel asked. As if on cue, Dean's stomach growled. Dean’s eyes met Castiel’s.

“Sounds good,” he said. His voice was colorless and the bond was unreadable. Castiel nodded awkwardly and left to go into his bedroom and fetch some clothes. He found some sweatpants and his worn  _ save the bees _ t-shirt for Dean to wear. They were similar enough in size that it should have been okay. He brought them out to Dean.

“Thanks,” Dean muttered, reaching out with his good hand to take the clothes. He dropped the blanket a little lower and revealed more of his chest: chiseled, rugged muscle dusted in more freckles, and the peak of a nipple. Castiel’s ears burned and he immediately looked away. 

“You’re welcome. I’ll go finish with dinner,” Castiel said to the floorboards, and he fled to the safety of his stove and the soup that bubbled sluggishly on it. Castiel stirred it carefully, added the rice he had already cooked, and finished it off with some herbs that were growing in a little box on the kitchen windowsill. The rosemary curled around Castiel’s fingers as he reached to pluck a few leaves. 

“Hello, little one,” he breathed to it. He pressed some of his energy into it and was gratified when the herb soaked it in greedily. He dropped the leaves into the soup and after tasting his efforts, turned the stove off and turned around to get some bowls. 

Dean was standing exactly two feet behind him, completely silent and stock still, exactly like an alert stag. Castiel jumped. 

“When you talk to the plants, do they talk back?” Dean’s mouth was quirked into a smirk. Castiel squinted and cocked his head to the left. 

“No?”

“No sense of humor, either, eh, Cas?” Dean asked. His tone was a little lighter but his eyes became more guarded. Castiel’s shoulders dropped.

“Sorry,” he sighed. “I suppose you could say that I don’t get out a lot.”

“I should be the sorry one,” Dean said. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. His injured arm hung flaccidly at his side. “I’ve been nothing but an asshole and you probably saved my life.”

“Oh.” Castiel looked down, embarrassed. “It was the right thing to do.”

Dean shuffled a foot, and Castiel could feel his discomfort alongside his own. They were silent for a pregnant moment before Dean’s stomach once again brought Castiel out of his thoughts. Lightly and careful not to brush against Dean, he stepped around him and got two bowls and two spoons from the cupboard. Then he carefully ladled the thick soup into Dean’s bowl. He offered it to Dean. Dean set it down on the counter and then took the spoon. Castiel bit his lip.

“Perhaps I have a sling around here somewhere?” he offered. “It might make this whole thing easier.”

Dean laughed out something rough and unamused that turned into an even rougher and painful-sounding cough. “I don't think there's anything that can make being shot by an arrow easier.”

Castiel’s heart sank. Dean was right. He couldn’t imagine the kind of pain he must have been in. Questions bubbled on the tip of Castiel’s tongue. Who had shot Dean with an arrow? Castiel was certain that most hunters would have used a gun. Suddenly, Dean’s expression changed to something jaded and sour and Castiel blushed crimson. Perhaps he could feel Castiel just fine after all.

“Dean,” Castiel started in alarm, “I—”

“Shit,” Dean interrupted. He rubbed a hand harshly over his eyes. “I’m sorry, Cas.” He sounded angry and tired and he felt confused. Castiel would have been too. “It’s just weird is all. I didn’t exactly plan on being picked up and bonded by some guy today.”

“I know it’s odd,” Castiel said. “But I promise you’re safe here.”

Dean gave him a look full of mistrust and a deep seated hurt. 

“Sure, Cas. Thanks.”

“That’s the third time you’ve called me that,” Castle pointed out before he could stop himself.

“You got a problem with it?” Dean’s tone was nervous and cocksure in the same moment and Castiel felt his gut do that funny swoop once again.

“No,” Castiel said definitively, “I don’t.”

“Good.” Dean nodded, and plunged them back into awkwardness. 

Castiel ladled himself some soup and stuffed a spoonful into his mouth, piping hot. He tried not to choke. Dean’s amusement drifted into his mind and he had to fight the urge to blush and smile hard. He didn’t know what it was about Dean. Maybe it had something to do with how they bonded. But Castiel liked him already, and the man was little more than a stranger who spent some time in a stag’s skin.

They finished dinner in silence and Castiel went off to find a sling and his laptop. Dean valiantly put the bowls in the sink for washing, but needed help with putting the rest of the soup in a Tupperware, as it required two hands. Castiel certainly hadn’t been expecting help from Dean, and was awed to find him struggling with the soup pot. Who was this man, who was so mistrustful but did the dishes? A dark look from Dean had Castiel repressing that sort of curiosity for another time. The bond was alive and kicking from both ends. Castiel would have to endeavor not to feel so strongly, lest he disturb Dean. 

Castiel put the soup away and then helped Dean put the sling on. He was careful with Dean’s injured arm, and tried to touch it as little as possible as he put it in the sling. 

“Perhaps we should take you to see a real doctor, not just a vet,” Castiel said as he adjusted the strap. Dean went white as a sheet. 

“No,” he said weakly. “No docs.” Castiel didn’t agree, but he didn’t comment. He couldn’t force Dean to go to a doctor if he didn’t want to. 

“Well, then, perhaps you can help me video call my friend so we can see about breaking this bond,” Castiel said. Dean nodded vigorously. Castiel led the way back to the couch and opened his laptop. He gave Dean an expectant look. 

“How does it work?” He asked.

“Dude, have you never used Skype before?” Dean asked incredulously. 

“Rowena set it up for me,” Castiel muttered. 

“Oh my god.” 

Dean chuckled genuinely this time, but it still ended in that alarming cough. Castiel resolved to make more healing salve, even if it did very little. 

Dean powered the laptop up and did something very complicated-looking in the keys and managed to find the Skype icon. 

“Who’re we calling?” Dean asked. Castiel pointed to Rowena’s picture. The computer screen backed out for a moment in warning. Castiel withdrew his hand. 

“It doesn’t like me,” Castiel said. Dean just shook his head good-naturedly. He tapped the cursor on Rowena’s picture and suddenly the screen was ringing. Castiel eyed Dean jealously.

Suddenly, the ringing stopped and Rowena’s face appeared.

“Castiel!” she exclaimed around her thick brogue, “what a surprise.” Her familiar, Balthazar, was shifted into his peacock form and upon seeing Castiel on the screen, fanned out his magnificent tail feathers into his usual flirtatious greeting. He shifted back into his human body and sat unabashedly naked beside Rowena. Castiel blushed furiously. 

“Cassie!” Balthazar purred. “And a handsome gentleman? Color me intrigued.”

“Hello, Balthazar, Rowena. This is—”

“Dean,” Dean said roughly. Castiel felt a curl of irritation from Dean. Odd. 

“What’s going on that you decided to brave your computer, dear?” Rowena asked, shrewd as always.

“It’s about Dean. I found an injured stag in the Hoh—”

“You decided to take him in, poor bleeding-heart darling,” Balthazar interrupted. 

“Yes,” Castiel said, annoyed. 

“I take it Dean was the stag,” Rowena said. She smirked at Castiel. 

“Yes,” Dean replied stonily. 

“We bonded instantly, Rowena,” Castiel said seriously. “I touched him to help him, and we bonded.”

Rowena’s manicured eyebrows shot up. She exchanged a look with Balthazar. 

“It’s not impossible,” she said slowly.

“It happened to Charlie and Gilda,” Balthazar added helpfully. 

“Oh that’s right,” Rowena said. 

“What happened with them?” Dean asked sharply. 

“ _ Wellll _ ,” Rowena said delicately.

“They were enjoying last Beltane,” Balthazar purred. “It can happen when you’re in the throes of passion.”

“No one wants to hear about your orgy party,” Castiel said, disgusted. 

“Can you break the bond?” Dean asked. 

“Yes,” said Rowena. “Though it’s very painful. Blood and bone and the blessing must come from the heart of the earth.”

Dean balked. “What’s up with you witches and bodily fluids?”

“Life and death and a blessing between,” Castiel said. “That’s how spells work. Since it’s us, we need life—blood, bone—death, and earth, the mother must bless us herself.”

Dean looked at Castiel. “Well what do we do?”

“It’ll take me a few days to prepare,” Castiel said. “Then we do it.”

“Castiel,” Rowena said, her eyes soft. Castiel’s heart ached. He knew that look.

“Rowena,” he ground out. Balthazar’s smile slipped. Dean was staring at him. Castiel could feel his shock and fear. His own loneliness had to be lancing through the bond. He needed to haul it back in. 

“We’ll talk soon,” said Balthazar. He forced his signature lecherous smile back on to his face. “Ta, darling.” With that he hung up, and Castiel was left with a silent computer and Dean beside him. Awkwardly, he reached out to shut the laptop. 

“I, uh,” Dean said, “I think I’ll go to sleep now, if that’s okay.” The air between them was heavy. 

“Dean,” Castiel said. But he really didn’t have the words to say. And what would he say? He was sorry? It was only fair that Dean could feel him if he could feel Dean. And Castiel wouldn’t chain him to a life he didn’t want, even if Castiel was lonely. Even if all Castiel has ever wanted was right in his hands. “Of course,” Castiel finished off lamely. “Come, take my bed.”

“No, Cas,” Dean said. “Where’ll you be then?”

“This isn’t up for debate,” Castiel said firmly. “You’re injured and you need somewhere comfortable. I can make do on the sofa.”

“Cas,” Dean said. He hesitated. He was afraid. That wouldn’t do. And besides, Castiel told himself, it was just a bed. He stood and Dean followed him through the little cottage to the bedroom. He stepped around Castiel and sat gingerly on the bed. 

“Dude, memory foam? Awesome,” Dean said. “Well, uh, night, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Dean. Call if you need anything.” Castiel left his room and went to make up a bed for himself on the sofa. He went through his nighttime ritual of blessing the house, brushing his teeth, and turning off all the lights. Then he settled on the sofa and stared up at the ceiling. All he’d ever wanted was a familiar, and now he’d bonded to one that didn’t want him. As he drifted off, he couldn’t help but wondering if somewhere, a god was laughing at him. 

  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

The next morning found Castiel with a sore back and a crick in his neck. He was far too used to his own bed to sleep well on his sofa but he knew Dean would’ve been more uncomfortable. He got up, stretched, and resolved to take some turmeric in his morning tea. He made his way to the kitchen and was surprised to see Dean in the sling, but sans shirt, fiddling with his kettle.

“Mornin’, Cas,” he said groggily. “Any way a man can get a decent cup of coffee in this joint?” His smile was lopsided and Castiel couldn’t help one in return. 

“I don’t have much coffee, but black tea should do the task,” he replied. 

Dean groaned. “Just my luck. Saved by a fuckin’ tree hugger.”

“Quite a statement from the mouth of a stag,” Castiel said. He arched an eyebrow. “Don’t stags eat grass?”

“Yeah, because deer jokes never get old,” Dean groused. But his expression closed off and Castiel knew he’d stepped on a nerve. He backpedaled immediately.

“Sorry.” He bustled to make them both a cup of tea. He handed Dean a steaming cup that he added a little honey to. Dean sniffed it suspiciously and took a sip. Apparently it was strong enough because he took a longer sip. Gratified, Castiel drank his own green tea. 

“I need to take a walk,” Castiel said. “And then I’ll fix us breakfast.” 

“You’d like Sammy,” Dean mumbled. Curiosity peaked before Castiel could stop it and Dean cast him a stubborn look. Castiel had the decency to look sheepish tucked his questions about this Sammy for later. Dean probably wouldn’t answer them anyway. 

“Would you like to come?” Castiel surged onwards. 

“What, don’t trust me alone?” Dean asked. His gaze was steady and his tone was cold. 

“No!  _ No _ , I mean of course I do. Just an offer. I need to get something for the bond breaking spell,” Castiel assured him.

Dean seemed guarded but Castiel felt his interest. “Okay,” he said after a while. 

“Okay.” Castiel threw his trenchcoat over his shoulders. “Coming?”

“Let me borrow a shirt and some sneakers, you psycho,” Dean grumped. He went back to Castiel’s bedroom, found Castiel’s battered shoes, and put them on his feet. He also took an old hoodie to borrow. The shoes seemed a little small, but Castiel imagined Dean wouldn’t get blisters. It wasn’t a terribly long walk. 

Castiel stepped out of the house and out of the back gate with Dean on his heels. 

The Hoh was peaceful this morning, not that Castiel really expected anything less. It was mid spring, and the tourists were still deterred by the cool nights and the possibility of snow. The air was cool against Castiel’s bare feet and he shivered into his coat. Dean made a clicking sound in exasperation and jerkily tugged the jacket more surely around Castiel’s shoulders. Even one handed, the movement was practiced. Who had Dean cared for in this way? Castiel bit down another slew of questions. Maybe Sammy? Did Dean have a child? Maybe a lover? Castiel tried not to flush. Silently, he scolded his unruly heart for dropping a little bit. Dean was a stranger. Castiel had no right to him. 

“If you’re gonna be an idiot and walk around barefoot in the woods at the buttass of dawn, you could at least wear something warmer,” Dean said gruffly. 

“Thank you, Dean,” Casitel said obediently. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said. His face was blank but Castiel couldn’t help but feel a niggling trickle of pleasure that wasn’t his own. He made note to thank Dean more, if only so he could bring him some more comfort. 

“It’s not far,” Castiel said. 

“What’re we out here for exactly?” Dean asked warily.

“The heart of the earth,” Castiel said. 

“Okay, yeah, but what does that even  _ mean _ ?”

“The heart of the earth is the rock that is at the base of the oldest tree in the forest. It’s the physical thing that started life growing here.”

“What, and we just take it for the spell?” Dean asked.

“I’m a plant witch, Dean. We’ll ask the tree for permission and we’re only going to borrow it. We bring it back,” Castiel said reproachfully. Did Dean think he’d really sacrifice the whole forest for a spell?

“We’re gonna ask a tree if we can borrow its rock,” Dean repeated. “I guess I’ve done weirder things at the crack of dawn.”

“You know, I’d’ve thought you’d have more questions,” Castiel said. He felt Dean’s emotions spike protectively.

“Why?”

“Well, only yesterday I rescued you from an arrow wound,” Castiel pointed out. 

Dean’s expression was carefully neutral. “I’m adaptable I guess.”

“Dean,” Castiel said. “We’re bonded. I have a sense of you. You’re shut down.” He surprised himself at his boldness. 

“Don’t ask about shit you don’t want answered, Cas,” Dean said flatly. He strode on ahead, leaving Castiel with the barest impression of pain. Castiel trotted to catch up, and allowed Dean his silence. The path was overgrown. Castiel stroked his fingers through the bushes and over the bark of the trees. They gave him strength and he gave them gratitude. Some little hen of the woods mushrooms strained for his attention. Castiel gave them a little energy and removed a piece of plastic trash. The mushrooms gave him strength. A small isopod crawled in its many feathery fear over his thumb and into the mushroom, inspecting it for morsels of food. Castiel smiled at its tiny grey body, especially as it rolled up protectively when he moved his hand. Dean’s eyes bored into the back of his head. From the bond Castiel sensed warmth and...curiosity? It was the first open feeling he’d gotten from Dean and as was per usual, it was something unexpected. 

“Oh dear,” Castiel said. He stopped. The body of a squirrel lay decapitated in the path. It wasn’t a usual sight, but fishers  _ had _ recently been reintroduced. Perhaps one had taken the head and left the rest to eat later. 

“Cas?” Dean peered over his shoulder. Disgust and  _ fear _ , thick and strong, roiled through the bond. 

“It’s okay,” Castiel said. “Something just didn’t finish its meal.” He plucked some needles from a nearby spruce and dropped them on the squirrel’s body. The energy from the spruce would bless the little creature as it journeyed to the next life.

“We should go.” Dean was alert and he skittishly danced around the squirrel. There was something he wasn’t saying. But Castiel didn’t press and carefully stepped away from the squirrel to continue their journey. 

Soon, at Castiel’s guidance, they reached the oldest tree Castiel knew of in the Hoh. Castiel considered himself lucky to live so close to it. He touched the old giant’s bark and sighed. The energy of the tree was deep and wise. It had so much to lend and Castiel couldn’t help but feel an upsurge of love for the old thing. Castiel scraped his palm against the bark, leaving some skin behind. 

“For a plant witch, you sure use blood and stuff a lot,” Dean commented. He sounded stiff, and Castiel sensed his wariness. 

“I don’t,” he said, “but the tree is sacrificing the stone, and it needs to know I’m willing to sacrifice too. The life.”

“A spell,” Dean confirmed. 

“Yes,” said Castiel. He reached in his coat pocket and found a vial of ash from the sage he’d smudged a few days before Dean had arrived. He scattered it at the base of the tree for the death. Then came the blessing. Castiel bit his lip. If he gave all the energy himself, he’d be drained and the spell to free Dean of the bond would have to wait for weeks at least. But perhaps…

“Dean? This may be too much to ask…”

“You want help with the spell,” Dean said. He was unsurprised. He’d likely felt Castiel’s hesitance and surmised from there. He didn’t say much, this familiar, but he was intelligent. He caught many more subtleties than he let on. 

“Yes,” Castiel said. “If you’ll let me.”

“What do you need?” Dean asked. 

“Just this.” Castiel reached for Dean’s good hand. Dean’s palm was warm and calloused against his. And the energy flowed into Castiel so quickly he gasped. He’d barely even needed to reach for the bond. Dean’s fingers sharply grasped his fingers. Castiel pressed his other hand to the tree and it devoured the blessing that was twice as strong as anything Castiel had ever created on his own. Unconsciously, Castiel rubbed his thumb over the back of Dean’s hand. When he turned around, Dean was there, inches away, eyes heavy-lidded and lips parted. Dean’s tongue darted to wet his lips. Castiel’s eyes traced the movement unbidden. Arousal was sharp and strident and his cock stirred in his underwear, and Castiel was so aghast that he had to restrain himself from snatching his hand from Dean’s all together. How dare he? Dean had been through enough without dealing with a strange witch’s hard-on. Dean’s eyes widened and his cheeks colored lightly. Castiel felt trapped by his gaze. Dean  _ knew _ . And he didn’t run. He leaned his face a centimeter closer and tea scented breath scudded warm over Castiel’s lips. 

The stone uncovered itself from the earth. The sound of it rising from the roots of the tree startled Castiel and ruptured the moment of whatever-it-was. He shook himself and gently dropped Dean’s hand; he immediately missed its warmth against his palm, but he surged onwards and reached for the stone. It was warm and smooth, and Castiel . He gently removed his hand from Dean’s and replaced it with the stone.

“We, uh, we make a good team,” Dean said. He looked away and his ears were red. Castiel felt his emotions, but they weren’t readable.

“Yes,” Castiel said. And felt a sharp twist in his heart. Dean would be a good familiar if he allowed it. But that would never happen. “Come, let’s go home.”

  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

In the days that followed, Dean and Castiel fell into a rhythm. Castiel made simple breakfasts and Dean lamented that he couldn’t wait to be able to use both arms and make  _ real  _ food. Apparently Castiel’s bacon efforts were abysmal. 

“C’mon, Cas that’s a fuckin’  _ shard  _ of meat. Way too cooked. Bacon’s a lady, you gotta treat her right.”

“It’s strips of cured pig’s ass,” Castiel had countered, deadpan. 

“Yup,” Dean agreed easily, “it’s  _ good _ cured pig’s ass. Just because it’s ass doesn’t mean you don’t have to treat it right.” 

He may have meant an innuendo, he may have not, the bond on Dean’s end was never easily readable, as though Dean didn’t know his own emotions and couldn’t translate them for himself. Or he was repressing them. Castiel had flushed anyway. 

Dean had taken to Castiel’s rather large collection of books and could often be found curled on sofa with Castiel’s battered, second hand copy of  _ Slaughterhouse 5  _ in hand. 

Dean’s injury healed slowly, Castiel made healing salves that probably did little good. Castiel’s magic really only extended to plants, but Dean’s shoulder ached and though his cough had eased, he still winced when he took a large enough breath. Dean always got oddly quiet after Castiel finished carefully applying the salves. It was Castiel’s fault, really. He always allowed his fingers to linger on Dean’s strong and scarred back. The wound wasn’t nearly as raw, and the back of Dean’s shoulder was hard-muscled and sprayed with freckles. Something deep in Castiel’s gut ached for him to press his lips there. He didn’t, but he lingered. And Dean allowed it, seemingly tolerant of soft touches. Castiel indulged himself in things sure to end but things that he desperately wanted. Dean did not touch him back in these moments, but Castiel was given over to the next pleasure of another person who was warm and real beneath his fingers.

So, Castiel made salves. He made potions, which Dean had laughed about, because he had an old cauldron and witch’s hat but he always covered his clothes with his flowery apron and bee oven mitts. But Castiel knew Dean’s emotions. Dean seemed to always be in a state of wonder at Castiel’s quiet life. The spells Castiel did to improve the health of his plants, the gardening Castiel did, the books he read, and even the quiet (and according to Dean, bland) meals he made made Dean watch carefully. Castiel himself left Dean to his own devices as much as he could. Whatever he’d been through that had ended with his being shot with an arrow had done a number on him. 

Today, Dean was flopped on the sofa, Castiel’s borrowed sweater riding up over sharp hips in a way that Castiel was definitely  _ not _ looking at. His legs were draped carelessly over the arm of the sofa. The book he had been reading was carefully dogeared to mark his place.

“Hey, Cas?” he asked. Castiel had been reading a book on how exactly one performed a bond breaking spell without killing both parties, and was disoriented to be brought back into a world that wasn’t half horror and half daydreams about Dean’s undeniable beauty. 

“Mmf. Yes?” Castiel replied. He shook his head in an attempt to bring himself more into the moment.

“How come there’s no pictures of you?”

“Beg your pardon?” Castiel raised his brows. “What brings this on?”

“Well, this is your mom’s house isn’t it? Where you grew up ‘n stuff.” Dean dropped his eyes sheepishly. Castiel rubbed his chin.

“There certainly used to be. I removed them all after my mother passed away. It seemed odd that I’d keep all my baby pictures hanging up,” Castiel explained.

“I dunno,” Dean said, his mouth widening into a charming smile, “I bet you were a cute rugrat.”

“I’m not sure,” Castiel said truthfully. “What about you? I’m sure you were a dashing fawn.”

“Uhhh,” Dean said. But Castiel wasn’t going to let him get away with it so easily. Not this time.

“Quid pro quo?” Castiel offered. Dean froze for a moment. Castiel could feel his nervousness.

“Okay,” he said finally. “You first. Any siblings?”

“Yes,” said Castiel. “ I have four brothers and a sister. I’m the second to last. You?”

“Younger brother,” Dean said. He kept his voice neutral but Castiel could feel the singing pride from the bond. “Okay...uh. What’s your siblings’ names? Are you close? Are they witches?”

“Cheater,” Castiel teased. “Well, there’s Michael, Lucifer, Inias, Anna, me, and then little Samandriel. No, we aren’t close. Yes, they are all witches. Spread all throughout the country. You could scarcely go to a region without finding a Novak. My siblings fought a lot, and I clearly wanted a little more peace.” Castiel spread his hands to indicate the little house at the edge of the woods. “What of your brother?”

“Wow, all six of ya in here, huh? Your poor mom. I’m super close with Sammy. He’s a lawyer and everything.” Dean could not keep his pride from his voice this time. “Practically raised the kid, but I don’t know where he gets his brains from. Genius. I think it goes without saying that he’s a shifter too. Big ole dog. What about your parents?”

“My father was absent. Truthfully, I know I met him because I was told I did, but I don’t remember him. My mother was a good witch, and I loved her, but she was absent in many ways too. I don’t know. She just never got involved in us much further than keeping us alive and teaching us to control magic. My siblings wanted more, but I stayed. It’s my home here.”

Dean’s face went cold. Foreboding roiled in Castiel’s gut. 

“Mom was a shifter. Mountain lion. She and Dad were one of those awesome love stories. Then I came along. Dad didn’t like weakness, see. Didn’t like that one of his sons was  _ prey _ . Sammy came along and he was a dog. That was okay. Then Mom died in a house fire. And Dad…” 

Dean let out a shuddering breath. Pain that couldn’t be contained rolled over Castiel in a tide. Without meaning to, his eyes found the oldest looking scars on Dean’s body, that were barely visible on the strip of bare skin around his midriff.

“Oh, Dean,” Castiel said.

“I’m done,” Dean said. He struggled to stand one armed, then strode off to Castiel’s room with his book. Castiel had nothing to say. 

“We’re doing the spell tomorrow!” Dean called from the bedroom.

“Yes,” Castiel replied miserably. He wished he could make the broken shifter stay, but some demons weren’t to be conquered with help. Castiel let it go and prepared for the loneliness Dean had scared away to creep back in.

  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

Castiel could not help but feel abject misery as he set up all the components of the bond breaking spell. He hadn’t known Dean for more than a few weeks but he was attached to the man. He’d never met a familiar that he’d connected with such as Dean. And they’d bonded instantly. That had to count for something, did it not? 

It didn’t matter. Dean didn’t want to remain bonded and that was all that counted. Castiel couldn’t chain an unwilling party to himself, no matter how much he thought he wanted. Dean clearly wasn’t his soulmate. And by god, Castiel wanted to slap himself for all the less than innocent glances he sent Dean’s way. Yes, the man was as handsome as they came, but Castiel couldn’t keep him as a familiar, no need to tack actual sexual harassment onto the list. Dean had given zero indication of wanting anything more than to thank Castiel for his help and be on his way. Castiel needed to face reality.

Castiel created intricate symbols with dirt and rocks and leaves in his tiny spell room. He lit candles and sang to the live plants in the room, giving them energy that they could in turn give the spell. He placed the heart of the earth at the center of the room, the blessing that would hold the whole thing together. Castiel anointed it with his and Dean’s blood. 

Dean had immediately vomited profusely after Castiel collected it with his ceremonial blade, two days ago. Castiel had rubbed Dean’s back, and gotten him a new shirt and made some mint tea to soothe his stomach. Dean spent the rest of the day looking like he wanted to say something. The bond vibrated with it, but he barely let a sound pass through his pale and shaking lips and Castiel refused to make him. He stayed up that night with Dean, who sat mute on the sofa into the wee hours. He allowed Castiel to hold his hand and gripped his fingers tightly until the moon was swapped for the sun. Castiel had to live with snatches of sickening fear through the bond for several hours afterward. 

  
  


Finally, Castiel placed the carcasses of bugs and one canary that he had found frozen and awkward on his usual route through the Hoh. He’d cursed irresponsible animal owners, then picked up the little body. At least its death could have purpose. Scavengers had gotten to it. Its left wing was severed cleanly at the joint.

Gabriel had called while Castiel was putting the spell together. 

“Hey, Cassie,” he said. “It’s been some time. How’s the stag?”

“Fine, fine.” Castiel said, distracted by a sigil he was drawing. “He’s gone now.”

“Good,” said Gabriel wryly. “I thought you might keep him.”

“No,” Castiel said firmly. “I don’t think he wants to be kept.”

“Wild things tend not to,” Gabriel said. “Say, you haven’t seen Toffee, have you?”

“Why would I have seen her?” Castiel asked, pausing in his spellcrafting.

“She seems to have gotten out. I think Hannah may have been careless with the door,” Gabriel said. He sounded worried. Castiel’s heart ached for him. Gabriel loved that cat. “If you see her, let me know.”

“I will,” Castiel promised. 

“I better go attend to some patients,” Gabriel said. “See ya, Cas.”

“Goodbye, Gabriel.”

Now. Back to the spell. All Castiel needed was Dean so both their energies could ignite the spell. Dean had been oddly absent all day. He’d barely said a word over tea and Castiel couldn’t get much from the bond. Then he’d disappeared as Castiel set up the spell. Now he was nowhere to be found. Castiel checked all of his usual hangouts. Finally, he ventured outside.

“Dean?” he called. No reply. He went back to check on the spell of the millionth time. His cellphone rang. His back door opened and slammed shut. And suddenly Dean came bounding into the room, hair in tufts, eyes wild, injured arm hanging limply at his side and his good arm clutching... were those Castiel’s honeysuckles?

“Cas, I’m so fuckin’ sorry,” Dean began through whuffed breaths.

“Dean, what’s going on?” Castiel asked.

“I’m so shitty at this,” Dean said. “We can’t do the spell.”

“What? Why?” Castiel asked.

“Damnit, Cas. Goddamnit. It’s...I just…”

“Dean,” Castiel pressed a firm hand to Dean’s shoulder. Dean let out a breath.

“Fuck, Cas,” he said. “I just. Fuck. Maybe I wanna see where this goes, okay? I heard you on the phone. I didn’t mean to listen in, I swear. But shit. You’re fuckin’ hot, okay? And you’re sweet as shit. And you love your plants. You’re so dorky and weird and I know you probably know how I feel. I think...I  _ hope  _ I’m right about you.” He nervously thrust the honeysuckles at Castiel, who was surprised enough to accept them.

“Dean, I don’t know what to say.”

“Look, Cas I know you didn’t choose this and I know it’s weird for familiars to like their witches this way and I’m not sayin’ you have to feel like I do.” Dean’s eyes locked into his. “But I had to say it.”

“Dean,” Castiel said, voice unsteady with emotion so powerful he was sure Dean was buckling beneath it. “Dean, I think you should kiss me.”

Dean surged forward and kissed him. Castiel’s arms came around Dean to draw him closer and Dean nuzzled against his lips and Castiel swore sparks flew. He scuffed though a line of dirt with his foot. He felt alive, energized and he  _ definitely  _ didn’t want to ignite this spell. Dean’s good hand cupped Castiel’s cheek. He nipped Dean’s lip.

“What happened to the sling?” Castiel asked. 

Dean pulled away to look sheepish. “The bedroom. It’s itchy.” Castiel rolled his eyes. Dean pulled him in for a deep kiss.

“Perhaps we should go get it.” Castiel suggested.

“You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” Dean asked.

“I suppose I ought to make good use of the condoms I purchased many months ago,” Castiel said.

“Oh my god,” Dean said, smile wide and mirth rolling through the bond. Castiel took his hand and took him to the adjoining bedroom. He gave the discarded sling a pointed look.

“Before we do anything, put that on,” he said. 

“Yes, sir,” Dean said with a cheeky grin. Dean pulled his shirt over his head and carefully put the sling back on. His stitches would need to be removed soon, and though the muscle damage would likely always give Dean trouble, Castiel was glad to see he was healing well and quickly thanks to the salves. Castiel took off his own shirt and went to resume kissing Dean. 

They kissed slowly and deeply. Castiel moved on to lave attention on Dean’s neck and Dean made a soft and glorious sound. Castiel gasped aloud. Dean then allowed himself to fall back on the bed while wriggling out of his pants. Castiel couldn’t help a chuckle. Dean looked ridiculous with Castiel’s sweats around his knees and his cock straining against Castiel’s boxers. 

“Have at it,” Dean said with a grin. Castiel pulled the pants down and Dean lifted his hips to help with the underwear. Dean’s thighs were snowy and sugared in soft hair and freckles. Castiel pressed careful, uncontrollable kisses on each one. Dean spread his legs unbidden. A muscle jumped in his thigh and Castiel could  _ feel _ his arousal. He bowed his body over Dean’s arousal to press a kiss to Dean’s soft-looking belly. Dean squirmed with ticklishness. 

“ _ Cas _ ,” he gasped. 

“Apologies,” Castiel said. He shucked off his own pants, and went to retrieve the condoms and some lube from a discrete drawer in his dresser.

“Dude, you live alone. Why do you hide your lube?” Dean guffawed. “Got some toys in there?” Castiel blushed crimson and Dean laughed all the harder. 

“Be nice.” Castiel growled playfully. He retaliated by opening a condom wrapper and sliding a condom over two fingers. He doused them in lube and headed over to Dean in mock menace. Their noses bumped when they kissed and Castiel’s fingers made a downward trend to Dean’s hole. He pressed one in, and Dean  _ keened _ . 

Castiel rained kisses down on Dean's cheeks and nose and began to open him up. Dean moaned brokenly, much to Castiel’s delight. In no time at all, Dean was ready and Castiel withdrew his fingers. The bond thrummed. Castiel nuzzled Dean’s face because he could and Dean made the saddest little noise at the back of his throat at the loss. 

“I’m here,” he gentled

“Put your fuckin’ dick in me or I’ll kick your ass into next week,” Dean grumbled good naturedly.

“As you wish.” Castiel rolled a condom on his cock and slicked it with more lube.

“Dude, don’t  _ Princess Bride _ me when you’re about to put your dick up my asshole,” Dean groused. “It’s sacrilegious and you  _ know _ I’m totally Westley.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Castiel pressed his aching length into Dean’s yielding body. Dean whined. 

“ _ Deprived _ .”

Castiel groaned gently. He set a steady rhythm that had them both gasping.  _ Push push push _ . Dean was beautiful and blush dappled and free of whatever had been hiding behind his eyes since Castiel had met him. Castiel resolved to ask him about it. He had to answer now that they had admitted this, right? Castiel didn’t know. He lost himself to his pleasure and Dean writhed beautifully beneath him, meeting his eager humps with jerky movements. 

“Cas, fuck, Cas I’m gonna come,” Dean gasped.

Castiel strained his body so he could meet Dean’s lips with his own. “Then do,” he said. 

With a few more thrusts and a cry of “ _ Cas _ ,” Dean came in long spurts, painting Castiel’s stomach and chest alongside his own. His body clenched around Castiel, and Castiel came helplessly. He dropped his head briefly to Dean’s shoulder. 

“Wow,” said Dean, as he huffed. Castiel got up to dispose of the condom and to get some tissues to clean them both off. Once they had removed all the semen, they snuggled close in the bed.

“Nap?” Dean suggested.

“Nap,” Castiel agreed. They could talk about whatever was wrong later. For now cuddling was more important.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, Castile woke up in good spirits because Dean was beside him and he was in his own bed after weeks of donating it solely to Dean’s recovery. Castiel was the big spoon and happy to have Dean’s back pressed to his front. They were nude and tangled together, and Castiel couldn't believe how his luck had changed. In just a few short weeks, he’d gone from the loneliest witch alive to one with a familiar and...well, they were far too early for labels, but at least they could kiss now, right?

Dean rolled on to his back. “Cas, you gotta stop staring at me. ‘S weird.”

“You’re beautiful,” Castiel said. Dean blushed. But then he looked sort of sick and Castiel felt his fear. 

“Cas,” he said. “I fucked up. I need to tell you something.”

Castiel nuzzled his jaw. “Whatever it is, it can’t be anything we can’t face together.”

“It’s about the arrow,” Dean said. “You’re gonna hate me.”

“Impossible,” Castiel said. 

Dean sighed long and sad. “The witch I bonded to before you—his name was Alistair. And he was a bone witch.” 

Castiel was taken aback. Bone magic was taboo among witches. It made for unstable and often weak magic, nevermind the death it demanded.

“He was so charming, Cas. He was well dressed and sounded so excited. And I wanted to be a familiar all my life. Dad hated that. He failed to beat it out of me. But I’ve always wanted that kind of relationship. And Alistair sounded perfect. I didn’t know what bone witchery entailed.” 

Dean paused to swallow. Castiel kissed his cheek. “Go on,” he encouraged. 

“Alistair knew that bone witches could be weak. Wanted to dabble in blood magic. I said no, but...Cas, he caught me. He took my blood. He took part of my rib. He put me out for that one. But, he likes the pain. He likes causing it. He likes gore. If he could’ve opened me up alive he would’ve.” A few tears fell from Dean’s eyes. He scrubbed at them. Castiel took his hand and kissed it.

“Oh, Dean,” he said because he could and he meant it. “Beloved, I’m sorry,” he said because he couldn’t help it. 

“Cas, I tried to break the bond between him and me. And I got away. But I know he shot me with the arrow. And I think I didn’t do it. I’ve seen the dead animals around. Cas, I think he’s found me. He’s in love with me. He wants me back.” 

Castiel kissed both Dean’s cheeks. “He can’t have you back. Dean, I’m going to make you some tea and then I’m going to get some items from the store and see what we can see. I can’t feel another incomplete bond within you, but you’re right. This house is heavily warded. Nothing so weak as a bone witch could enter my home. Stay inside while I get supplies, and we’ll figure it out.”

“Cas,  _ I  _ have to leave. You’ll be in danger,” Dean said. Castiel shook his head.

“Any danger is mine to accept, Dean. I’m not letting anything happen to you. Now, let me get dressed. The sooner I leave the sooner I’ll be back,” Castiel said. Dean heisted for a drawn out moment, but finally nodded and kissed Castiel soundly. 

“Okay.” 

Castiel made them both green tea, then left Dean to his books. Castiel made sure all the doors were locked before he went out to his truck. On the hood was a hummingbird. Its neck was at an odd angle and the feathers were all ruffled. A wing was missing and its blood smeared the hood of the truck. A shiver ran down Castiel’s spine. It looked like a warning. If a bone witch really was in town, Castiel hated to think what more carnage he could cause. Carefully, he laid the bird down on the earth and gave a blessing to guide its soul. He checked his wardings and found them strong as ever. No bone witch could get within ten feet of his house or his garden. They were simply too weak. They were an abomination and they couldn’t compete with the power of true magic. 

Castiel’s truck was not built for much speed, but it grudgingly pushed the speed limit as Castiel went to the nearest store that sold the supplies he would need to break an incomplete bond. Unlike breaking a solid one, an incomplete bond was something Castiel had experience with. Balthazar had needed a bond broken when he had bonded with a cruel witch. Castiel had assisted him and introduced him to Rowena. All he would need to do was cleanse Dean, cast protection, and then do a banishment. Simple, really. He just needed the herbs. 

The store he went to was small, but it sold herbs by the bulk and had lots of fresh produce. Early spring meant strawberries and Castiel thought he and Dean both would deserve a treat after the ordeal of removing the bond of an abuser. 

At the store Castiel replenished his stores of sage, lavender and dried rosemary, all important for this spell. He added lavender seeds to the mix for good measure. One of the few large things in his house was his tub and he was sure Dean wouldn’t mind indulging him in a soak, especially with lavender involved. It would do them both good. Castiel browsed the tea aisle and found a rosehip tea that looked divine. He found a particularly lush looking tub of strawberries and added it to his cart along with a jar of clotted cream for good measure. 

He was just debating on the necessity of ice cream when Gabriel came trotting towards him with a tall and severe looking man on his heels. 

“Gabriel?” Castiel called

“Hi, Cassie,” Gabriel said. “This is—”

“Sam Winchester,” the man said. He didn’t extend a hand to shake. His eyes had a familiar shape. His name rang a bell in Castiel’s brain. 

“You’re Dean’s brother,” Castiel said. “I’m Castiel.”

“Where’s my brother?” Sam demanded to know. 

“Home,” Castiel replied, startled. “What’s this about?”

“I’ve been hunting my brother down for weeks. This guy says you took in a stag,” Sam said. 

“Cas, what the  _ fuck _ is going on?” Gabriel pleaded. “You took home an injured stag, not this guy’s brother!”

Castiel ignored him. “Sam, you’re welcome to come home with me and see him,” he said.

“You been keeping him in a basement or something?” Sam growled. He was a shifter too, Castiel recalled. A dog. He looked it, with his brutal expression and intensity. Dean was lucky to have such a brother. 

“No.” Castiel said. “I don’t know why he hasn’t contacted you. He’s only been staying with me for a few days. Come, let me buy my herbs and I’ll take you to him.”

Sam gave him a suspicious look, but before he could reply, a whirling, sucking cyclone of  _ fear pain  _ exploded into Castiel’s senses. He doubled over. No.  _ No.  _ This couldn’t be happening. His warding couldn’t have failed. Not for a bone witch. Dean had left. That was the only answer. That stupid, self-sacrificing idiot. Castiel lamented Dean and the father that had seemingly  _ beaten _ that into him. Damnit. Goddamnit twice over and straight to hell. 

“Cassie?” Gabriel asked in panic.

“Sam, it’s your brother,” Castiel gritted out. “I think he’s been taken by a bone witch.”

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Now I’m not as familiar with witches as Dean is, but that sounds bad.”

“It is,” Castiel said grimly. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? Witches?” Gabriel squeaked. “Are you guys crazy people? Cassie, I’m sorry I was rude about that bee you saved. I meant it.”

“Shut up, Gabriel. I’ll explain as much as I can, but we don’t have time. There’s no telling what Alistair could do to Dean,” Castiel said. “They can’t be too far off or I wouldn’t feel Dean so strongly. They must be in the Hoh.” 

“We need to call the cops,” Gabriel said. “If someone’s been taken, we need the cops.” Sam took Gabriel’s upper arm in warning.

“I told you when I ran into you. No cops,” Sam said evenly. Gabriel just nodded, eyes huge.”

“Let’s get to my truck. I can take us to Dean.” Castiel dropped his shopping and strode off to his truck. Sam was right at his heels and Gabriel hurried to keep pace. Once all three men were in the truck, Castiel quickly coaxed the engine to life and rattled off toward home. 

They arrived to a bloody sight. Castiel saw a mess of dead things, blood and bone, and his door was wide open. 

“Dean, you idiot,” Castiel muttered heartbrokenly under his breath. 

“Oh, Cassie,” Gabriel breathed. He squeezed Castiel’s shoulder. It was sweet, Gabriel was a spectacular friend, but he misinterpreted Castiel’s dismay. A house could be fixed. The loss of Dean could not. Castiel sprang from the truck and kicked off his shoes. He gave the earth his energy and asked for a weapon. Anything would do. The wild grasses whispered and waved and produced a blackberry cane. It was a fine weapon. It would do. 

“Explain now.” Gabriel was behind him and he looked a little hysterical. 

“I’m a plant witch and I’m going to rescue my familiar,” Castiel said. Sam stepped out of the car and immediately shifted into a giant, barrel-chested mastiff type dog. Gabriel looked faint. Sam barked roughly. 

“We don’t have time for this now,” Castiel said. “Sam, we have to find him.” Sam brought his nose to the ground and sniffed hard. As soon as he caught the scent he took off and Castiel was quick to follow. “Gabriel, it’s dangerous,” he called over his shoulder. “Get in the house and shut the door. You’ll be safe.”

“Not a chance in hell, magic man,” Gabriel said and dashed to catch up. “You’re giving me a  _ real  _ explanation and I’m not gonna stop annoying you till I get it.”

Castiel didn’t have time to argue with Gabriel so he didn’t and merely tried to keep pace with Sam. They went around his house and plunged into the Hoh. It was a rainy morning and the earth was soft with it. Behind him, Castiel heard Gabriel swear as he got mud all over his shoes. Another time, Castiel might have found it funny. But now he chased Sam the dog as they charged ever closer to Dean. They went deeper and deeper into the woods, and horrible dark magic hummed in the air. The forest was poisoned with it. Castiel would have to cleanse it here. Dean’s fear got stronger and stronger until they unwittingly burst into a clearing to be met with with a grisly scene. 

Horrible magic crackled in the air and Castiel was overcome by wave after wave of Dean’s anguish. Sam growled.

“I was wondering when I’d get to meet you,” Alistair said. Castiel met eyes with the conductor of Dean’s torture. He was wearing a nice suit, but it was tarnished by layers of blood. There were cages of mangled birds and small animals around him, to draw power from. Gabriel’s own cat Toffee lay dead on the ground. She, like the squirrel in the woods was beheaded. Her orange fur was stained crimson with blood from numerous cuts. Castiel’s stomach turned. She had not died an easy death. Gabriel retched on seeing her. And then there was Dean. Shifted, wild-eyed, and tied down. He was bleeding from a number of wounds.

“Give him back,” Castiel growled. 

“I should have told you that,” Alistair purred. “He’s mine.”

“He’s no one’s,” Castiel spat. “He’s a person.”

“Is that what you think?” Alistair simpered. “Silly little plant witch. Run along and find a bee or something that’ll suit you.”

Castiel snarled and stamped his blackberry cane against the ground. Briars rose around Dean, coiling around him to keep him safe. Dean looked Castiel in the eye with complete trust and didn’t twitch a muscle. The briars rose around Alistair too, but he cut them away with a bone shard knife and a laugh. 

“Now that I can’t allow, plant witch,” he said. Castiel didn’t glorify that with a response. Alistair was just a bone witch. 

The air crackled with power as Castiel bade the briars higher. They lashed out like whips, knocking Alistair to his knees. They cut his skin, and Alistair used his own blood and the bones around him to wither the briars to ash. Castiel strode forward and smashed the blackberry cane across Alistair’s shoulders. Alistair summoned the headless body of Toffee to slash Castiel with projections of bone that had been magically spliced on to her feet, but the magic was weak.

Castiel’s briars stopped the bone beast and with a blessing, gave her peace. The bone magic was simply no match.

Castiel used his blackberry cane to knock the bone shard knife away. Alistair fell with no weapon and covered in slashes. Castiel withdrew; he was no killer. Perhaps with mercy, Alistair could be reformed. Just far, far away from Dean.

Sam, who has spent the whole time growling impressively but wisely not interfering, had no such qualms. He finally came forward and calmly crushed Alistair’s throat in his mighty jaws. Castiel called the briars back and found Dean a human and fell against him. Dean didn’t speak, but he kissed Castiel’s hair. 

“Hey Sammy,” he said to his brother. Sam gave Dean a reproachful look and then nudged his face. Dean patted his brother’s neck and Sam trotted off, apparently to see to Gabriel.

“Told you we'd figure it out,” Castiel said. Dean gave a watery laugh. 

“Psycho,” he teased. Castiel kissed his lips, and his cheeks, and his nose, and his jaw. 

“Beloved,” he implored Dean, “let's go home.”

“That’s the second time you’ve called me that, Cas,” Dean said. 

“Does it offend you?” Castiel asked in alarm.

“Not at all.” Dean grinned. “Dork.”

He helped Dean rise unsteadily to his feet and carefully walk homewards. Castiel could still feel Dean’s fear and sorrow. There would be a long road to recovery from this, but Castiel was content that they could do it together.

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

_ Summer _

As Castiel took his morning walk in the Hoh, Dean, now completely healed, sprang gracefully beside him. His antlers were covered in velvet and his coat shone from the brushing Castiel gave it that morning. Dean always groaned about being brushed, he said it was degrading, but Castiel knew he secretly liked it. And Castiel would consent to let him shift in the house without a solid brushing down once a week. Who knew deer would shed so much? It was also a necessity to make sure ticks didn’t find their way into his fur as he raced through the bushes. Shifting with ticks was no fun for Dean and the last thing Castiel wanted him to get was Lyme disease. 

Castiel grinned as Dean leapt around happily. His boyfriend really was a handsome stag. Dean nibbled some clover and jumped far more than a usual deer would. Luckily, the visitors to the Hoh that saw him were usually so transfixed to see a stag up close that they paid his behavior no mind. He sailed through the air far too close to Castiel and bowed his antlers in play. Castiel grabbed them with both hands and shook Dean’s head gently. Dean jerked away and lifted his tail in mock offense. 

“You’re a menace, you know,” Castiel said. “You’re such a ham,” Dean merely shook his head and came in to give Castiel a “you love me” nuzzle. Castiel did love him, so he patted Dean’s sturdy back. He couldn’t contain his smile. He had a familiar. 

Sam had moved to Magic and set up a small law firm. He said it was to be closer to Dean and that was true. The brothers were closer than most and Castiel was more than happy to welcome Sam into the town if it meant Dean would become more relaxed. And they had. They had Sam for dinner at least once a week. Sam also generally had dinner with Gabriel, but they were taking their time getting to know each other and Castiel didn’t want to pry on the burgeoning something or other. 

Dean cooked the majority of the time now and Castiel had to admit that he was much better at it. They still shared a quiet life, but it was a happy one. Dean worked from home, consulting people on problems in classic cars. Sam had brought Dean’s own ‘67 Chevy Impala to Magic and Dean lovingly got her into tip top shape. 

Dean shifted suddenly. He was naked and glorious and they were alone so when we pressed himself against Castiel’s front, there was nothing to stop the sound that left his throat. Dean kisses his lips to hide it anyway. Castiel smiles against Dean’s sun warm lips. What a wonderful summer this was shaping up to be.


End file.
